An Ending, After Everything
by SufferingIsAChoice
Summary: Hawke has saved her city, and Merrill, but at the cost of her family, every mage in the gallows, alienating the people who loved her, and what else? One shot.


An Ending, After All

Then:

"So you're going to be viscount," Merrill said to me, when we were finally alone, in my big, empty house.

"I think so," I said, as rubbed my arms, still aching from casting so many spells in the fighting a week before. "Ma vhenan, can you ask Sandal or Bodahn to draw some water, I think I need a hot bath."

"They've both already left for Orlais, and don't call me that," she said, softly, under her breath, as she looked out the window of our bedroom on the city below, still recovering from the fighting.

"I thought you wanted me to learn more of it?" I asked, sensing the shift in her tone.

"They're all dead," she whispered, and now I was on my feet, walking across the floor to her.

"Yes," I said, a foot or two behind her, "Orsino, Anders, they are dead. Even Meredith, we think, although no one has really inspected what remains."

"Not them, Marian. Yes, them, but more. My clan, all of them. Your mother. All those mages we slaughtered. We are mages, Marian, and we killed them. There is so much death in this city. And they want you to lead it? Will you sit on the throne, in the room where we killed the Arishok? Where he killed the last Viscount?"

"Merrill," I began, reaching out my hand towards her, but she flinched away, and finally turned and looked me in the eyes.

"Don't touch me," she whispered. "Not right now, ma vhenan, not now. Not after what you've done."

"Merrill."

She was crying now, as the words spilled out of her mouth.

"This past year I kept telling myself over, and over that I loved you. I wanted to bond with you, for life, to make our stories intertwine. I wanted to teach you so much, to adopt children with you, someday. I love you. It kept me on track. It made sense when nothing else did. You're human, and you don't understand the people's ways, even if you try, but I love you. The Keeper was an idiot and I lost everything, but I love you. Anders kills so many and starts a war, and you kill him and I love you. And you helped the Templars kill all those mages, people like you and me, even if they were in a circle, unlike us. And I loved you. I just don't understand."

"Merill…"

"No. No, Hawke. I've known you for six years. I was there when your mother died, you were there when my clan attacked us. I am owed an explanation."

The tears still glimmered in her eyes, but her face was stone solid. She was right, even if her usage of Hawke stung. Hawke was what she had called me all those years ago, when she lived in Lowtown, and I could still have flings with Isabela. Hawke was what she had called me before Varric's stupid expedition, when I was just a stupid apostate looking out for myself, without the concern of being a Champion, or, now, Viscount. She needed an explanation, and she deserved it.

"You didn't ever meet Bethany," I began, as I turned away from her and sat down on the bed, our bed. "She was a mage, like us. But she wasn't like me. Andraste's tits, I don't know why you ever wanted to be with me. You know how I can be. Not with you. I'm soft with you, but back in Ferelden life was hard, and I grew hard with it. I think I was a bit of an arse, back then. But Bethany was kind, and gentle, and then she died, and I came to Kirkwall, and I wanted to keep everyone safe. Then Carver joined the Templars behind my back. I still think he did it to spite me, and I've tried to repair the trust, but too little, too late. And then my mother…"

I trailed off.

"It's alright, Hawke, I know," Merrill said, softly.

"After her," I continued, my voice weary with the years, "I felt I had so little left. Gamlen hates me, Carver won't ever be my friend, Bethany, my mother, my father are all dead. Aveline is going back to Ferelden, I'm not sure if you know, Sebastien to Starkhaven, Fenris to the Imperium, Isabel found her boat. The more I have tried to hold onto the people I care about the more they fall away from me. And then Ander's did his stupidity, and I could only see my mother, and this stupid city, and I wanted to keep it safe, so badly."

"From who?" She asked, walked over, and resting a hand on my shoulder.

"From people who might try to hurt you, or Carver. People like Quentin."

"Blood mages. Like me."

"Maybe…" I said, softly.

She took her hand away.

"After my clan attacked us you said it wasn't my fault. Do you still believe that?"

"Merrill," I began, already dreading where this was going, "you aren't like them. You aren't like Quentin, Orsino, or all the rest, you've never tried to hurt anyone."

"I've hurt a lot of people, Hawke," she said, looking me dead in the eyes, "the streets of this city are filled with people you and I have killed. And you are going to rule it, but I don't think I can stand it a minute more."

She walked towards the door and I already knew what was happening, felt the noose tightening around my neck. I was losing her, just like Bethany and my mother. Worse, I was pushing her away, just like Aveline, Carver, Gamlen and so many more. This was my fault, and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Do you love me?" I asked, dumbly.

"I think I always will," she said, and then she was gone.

Now:

This is different.

The only thing I can compare it to is that incident with Feynriel, but this is different. New. Worse. I'm here physically, now, not just dreaming. Plus I'm pretty sure last time didn't have a spider the size of a mountain.

At least Varric's here, again.

"I swear on Andraste's flaming knickers, Hawke, if you compare this to that thing with the half-elf kid, I will shoot you."

"Eloquent as always," I joke, and the joke steadies me, as I cast another spell.

I missed Varric, after I left Kirkwall. He had gotten captured, I found out later, but I still selfishly missed him. Missed his stupid jokes, and him calling me killer, and even the trying to one up the other with sex stories. I did not expect our reunion to end here, in the fade, next to a flaming Qunari with a glowing hand and the blasted traitor of Ostagar, Loghain, himself.

There's an explosion, and the thing we've been fighting vanishes. The small thing, that is, the spider the size of a mountain is still there. But as I watch the Qunari, something Adaar, if I remember her name correctly, waves her hand, and a shimmering whole is torn in the air, and I see the real world again. Behind us the demon roars, and bears down on us.

"I suppose this is a fitting end," Loghain mutters beside me, "I've lived long enough, after all."

"Move!" The Inquisitor screams.

"Tell me," I say, almost conversationally, "do you remember a soldier named Carver?"

He turns to me then, and I think I see something I relate to. He is filled with regret, as am I. His troubles may be different than mine, Ostagar, Denerim, fathering a child with soul of an Old God, if the tales are true, but they are still regrets, just as much as helping the Templars, failing my mother, Bethany, Carver, and Merrill. Maybe he sees the similarity too. Because he nods, and starts running towards the whole in reality.

In a moment, him, the Inquisitor, the elf with the egg head, and that other elf who I'm fairly sure was shagging the Qunari have all disappeared. Only Varric remains, as the titanic demon nears us, and for a moment I remember a joke about short legs. Suddenly he looks for me, and sees me hanging back.

"Killer! Come on!" He yells.

"Varric, you always were the handsomest dwarf I ever met, and if I was ever into any man, you'd be the one," I shouted, readying my staff.

I see dawning horror on his face as he realizes what I am about to do.

"Hawke," is all he says.

"If you ever find Merrill tell her I love her, and I'm sorry," I say, and, with a blast of my mind, send him hurtling through the shimmering hole, leaving me, in the fade, to fight the demon alone.

The Future:

I have been here too long.

I remember I once knew a mage who let a spirit, or was it a demon, possess him.

If spirits can become mages can mages ever be spirits?

Am I a mage? Was I a mage, a human, or have I always been a demon, wandering these paths?

I had a name once. Hawke, I think.

There was something more but I've forgotten it.

I have been here too long.

There was a dwarf. He was funny.

I wonder what his name was.

I came from a place, and I don't remember where.

I do remember one name though, and I keep saying it over and over, and over, and over.

Merrill.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

"I know, ma vhenan."

"I, how, are we speaking?"

"Come here."

I feel her. So small. I was always so much bigger than her, but now she is holding me, and pulling me towards a mirror. I see it, in the shifting shadows, and I do not understand.

"How?"

"I got it working. Thanks to you. They can take us many places, Marion, even to the fade. I am sorry I took so long. But you're safe now."

Now:

I wake up with a splitting headache, under trees, somewhere in Thedas, I can't remember where.

"Easy, easy, vhenan. You're still weak."

"It's been months," I say, laying back down.

"Yes," Merrill says, softly, "and you were in the fade for years. But it's okay. We have all the time in the world. After everything, it's just us, ma vhenan, together, no matter what happens. I love you. That's what keeps me going."

I reach for her, and she does not move away. She kisses me, and I remember everything we have come through, and I am glad she is with me after it all.


End file.
